[21] The harshness and general painfulness of life in old times must have been much relieved by certain simple and affectionate customs which modern people have learned to dispense with. Amongst these was a practice of going to see parents, and especially the female one, on the mid Sunday of Lent, taking for them some little present, such as a cake or a trinket. A youth engaged in this amiable act of duty was said to go a-mothering, and thence the day itself came to be called Mothering Sunday. One can readily imagine how, after a stripling or maiden had gone to service, or launched in independent housekeeping, the old bonds of filial love would be brightened by this pleasant annual visit, signalised, as custom demanded it should be, by the excitement attending some novel and perhaps surprising gift. Herrick, in a canzonet addressed to Dianeme, says:—
"I'll to thee a simnel bring,
'Gainst thou go a-mothering;
So that, when she blesses thee,
Half that blessing thou'lt give me."
He here obviously alludes to the sweet cakes which the young person brought to the female parent as a gift; but it would appear that the term "simnel" was in reality applicable to cakes which were in use all through the time of Lent.... We learn from Ducange that it was usual in early times to mark the simnels with a figure of Christ or of the Virgin Mary, which would seem to show that they had a religious signification. We know that the Anglo-Saxon, and indeed the German race in general, were in the habit of eating consecrated cakes at their religious festivals. Our hot cross-buns at Easter are only the cakes which the pagan Saxons ate in honour of their goddess Eastre, and from which the Christian clergy, who were unable to prevent people from eating, sought to expel the paganism by marking them with the cross. It is curious that the use of these cakes should have been preserved so long in this locality, and still more curious are the tales which have arisen to explain the meaning of the name, which had been long forgotten. Some pretend that the father of Lambert Simnel, the well-known pretender in the reign of Henry VII., was a baker, and the first maker of simnels, and that in consequence of the celebrity he gained by the acts of his son, the cakes have retained his name. There is another story current in Shropshire, which is much more picturesque, and which we tell as nearly as possible in the words in which it was related to us. Long ago there lived an honest old couple, boasting the names of Simon and Nelly, but their surnames are not known. It was their custom at Easter to gather their children about them, and thus meet together once a year under the old homestead. The fast season of Lent was just ending, but still they had left some of the unleavened dough which had been from time to time converted into bread during the forty days. Nelly was a careful woman, and it grieved her to waste anything, so she suggested that they should use the remains of the Lenten dough for the basis of a cake to regale the assembled family. Simon readily agreed to the proposal, and further reminded his partner that there were still some remains of their Christmas plum-pudding hoarded up in the cupboard, and that this might form the interior, and be an agreeable surprise to the young people when they had made their way through the less tasty crust. So far, all things went on harmoniously; but when the cake was made, a subject of violent discord arose, Sim insisting that it should be boiled, while Nell no less obstinately contended that it should be baked. The dispute ran from words to blows, for Nell, not choosing to let her province in the household be thus interfered with, jumped up, and threw the stool she was sitting on at Sim, who on his part seized a besom, and applied it with right good will to the head and shoulders of his spouse. She now seized the broom, and the battle became so warm that it might have had a very serious result, had not Nell proposed as a compromise that the cake should be boiled first and afterwards baked. This Sim acceded to, for he had no wish for further acquaintance with the heavy end of the broom. Accordingly, the big pot was set on the fire, and the stool broken up and thrown on to boil it, whilst the besom and broom furnished fuel for the oven. Some eggs, which had been broken in the scuffle, were used to coat the outside of the pudding when boiled, which gave it the shining gloss it possesses as a cake. This new and remarkable production in the art of confectionery became known by the name of the cake of Simon and Nelly, but soon only the first half of each name was alone preserved and joined together, and it has ever since been known as the cake of Sim-Nel, or Simnel.—Chambers's Book of Days.
CHAPTER V.
MAY-DAY CEREMONIES AND SUPERSTITIONS.
Rejoice, Oh English hearts, rejoice!
Rejoice, Oh lovers dear;
Rejoice, Oh city, town, and country,
Rejoice, eke every shire.
For now the fragrant flowers
Do spring and sprout in seemly sort;
The little birds do sit and sing,
The lambs do make fine sport.
Up then, I say both young and old,
Both man and maid amaying,
With drums and guns that bounce aloud,
And merry tabor playing.
Old May-day Song.
The May-day festivities and superstitious ceremonies belong to the same antique or pagan class as those previously described. The Irish antiquary, O'Brien, says that the practice of lighting fires in honour of the god Bel, on May-day, gave the Irish name "Mina-Bealtine" to the flowery month. Brand says: "In honour of May-day, the Goths and Southern Swedes had a mock battle between summer and winter, which ceremony is retained in the Isle of Man, where the Danes and Norwegians had been for a long time masters." This, evidently, is a remnant of an Aryan myth. Olaus Magnus says, the "Northern natives have a custom to welcome the returning splendour of the sun with dancing, and mutually to feast each other, rejoicing that a better season for feasting and hunting was approached." Tollet quaintly says: "Better judges may decide that the institution of this festival originated from the Roman Floralia, or from the Celtic La Beltine, while I conceive it derived to us from our Gothic ancestors." The theory of the common Aryan source of these festive rites reconciles Tollet's conception with the decision of the "better judges," for whose opinion he evidently entertains profound respect. The Rev. Mr. Maurice, in his learned work on "The Antiquities of India," contends that the May-day festivities were originally inaugurated at the vernal equinox, and that they pertained to a "phallic festival to celebrate the generative powers of nature." From this stand-point he argues that they are the remains of very ancient ceremonies well known to Egypt, India, and other places. His reasoning on this subject is very learned and ingenious. He says:—